If Only
by LivingLifeAsAMusical
Summary: Lady Glinda reflects on her regrets, mistakes, the past, and her future as she prepares to give her annual speech on the fourth anniversary of Elphaba's death. Gelphie. Major Angst. Please Read. Most likely a cross between the book and the musical.


As I sit here today, I still wonder if there was anything I could have done to save her. The scene of her death and the events thereafter replay over and over in my mind, becoming a constant reminder of the mistakes I have made, the regrets I have, and the things that could have been if I had only listened to my heart instead of the world around me. I walk around Oz, smiling my million dollar smile and making encouraging speeches against the one person who taught me more about life than anyone. I go and put her down, only to flee the scene and cry every time. And they say only time can heal losing someone, but I have to say that it is not so. I was never one for philosophical sayings, psychology or sociology, but I still have to disagree with a statement as such that has been accepted for generations. With each passing day, the pain gets worse…It has been four years, two long painful excruciating years. Sometimes I just lay in bed all day, crying until I fall asleep with exhaustion only to wake up and cry some more. I hear her voice, I see her face, I feel her as I felt her then; yet I know she is gone, never to return to me.

I loved her. I loved her more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. I loved her more than I loved myself. I would have gladly died to save her and yet, here I sit and she is gone. On that note, is that such a hard concept to accept? That Glinda the Good was in love with the Wicked Witch of the West. I wanted to tell the world but she told me no, that it would only bring me harm. Why didn't I do it anyways? Things would be so much different. My heart shudders and twists more as I think of my foolishness. Even if we would have been hunted and killed, at least I would be with her right now. Now, I am left with memories, wretched memories that bring me nothing but pain and regret.

After all, what is left when everything is gone? Tears and a heavy heart; Memories and regret; and most of all, wasted time on wishing for more chances . . . chances to see . . . chances to hear . . . chances to touch . . . chances to embrace, love, and smile . . . All I want is another chance to have her shoulder slightly brush mine as we walk side by side; to see her rare beautiful smile; to drown in those deep brown pools that always contained a whirlwind of knowledge and when she was around me: love. Just to run my fingers through her silky tresses that mesmerized me and to straighten the glasses over those brown eyes. To watch her jackknifed on her bed, her nose shoved in a book on something I could never understand. To touch her face and have the chance to let my fingers wonder over its structure and to memorize it's contours; to feel her velvety green hand slip into my cream colored one, digits entwining with each other.

To watch her beautiful lips as they say my name, both Galinda and Glinda; to hear her rare, infectious unique laughter ringing through the air, making me high from the sound of it. To have her arms slip around me from behind, embracing me and protecting me from the world; to have her speak the words that I could always count on her saying, whether it be a spastic amount of swear words and wit or a caring comment doused with love. To have her viridian lips meet with my plump pink ones, the softness surprising me every time; and to feel her tongue slip into my parted lips, sending a shock all the way down to my feet. To feel her breathing on my neck, chill bumps racing down my neck and making my hair stand up on end; to feel her lips grazing my neck and ear, setting my entire body on fire with desire. To have her twig like digits and lips trace every inch of my body, slipping into and over places no one but myself had touched before, bringing me pleasure I never thought possible. To be able to do the same thing to her, my hands traveling over hills of green and into caverns of pink, her soft moans and 'sweet oz's' ringing out in the air around me and arousing me further. To have my head resting on her green toned stomach, skin as smooth as silk against my cheek, our breathing slowing as we lay tangled up in the black dingy bed for hours, a bundle of arms and legs sprawled naked against each other. And in that moment, to feel her hands tug on my shoulders with their last remaining strength, pulling me up so that her green tinged lips can kiss my forehead, "my love, my sweet," ringing in my ears as I drifted to sleep.

In all, to simply feel her presence in the air around me; to smell her and be able to know she is close to me. To tell her how I really feel, even though I am pretty sure she already knew. To tell her that I loved her then, to tell her that I love her now, and to tell her that I always will…

I wipe away a tear that has managed to escape as I prepare to make my speech in front of thousands for the fourth time now. In my mind, I see myself telling them the truth. I can see their cheerful faces contorting and growing to an angry scowl as I start to defend someone they so righteously believe is wicked. I hear the thousands shout out the word "traitor" against someone who has helped and lead them through so much. I can feel the guards grab my arms and lead me away, throwing me into Southstairs or hopefully hanging me on the spot, the pain over quickly and my agony subsiding as I could be reunited with the one person I am truly supposed to be with. And it's this idea that completely halts my damning train of thoughts as I fear doing something so drastic, something so against what _she_ wanted for me, would ultimately separate us even after death. Perhaps she cast a spell preventing such, thinking that even in an after-life we would still bring luck to no one and we would still be in danger. Damn Elphaba. Damn her! And she knows this is why I won't go against my word, why I won't break my promise to her because I am scared. I always have been…of everything. It kept me from saving her and it keeps me from redeeming not only her now, but myself as well. So until the day I stop being Glinda Upland and somehow become Elphaba Thropp, a woman who wasn't afraid to speak her mind or tell about her feelings, it will always be like this and I will always burn in the flames of hell.

I sigh, wiping away my remaining tears, my façade beginning to slip into place. I run my hands over my dress, the same sparkling blue dress I wore that dreadful day, and I step out onto the podium. My million dollar smile doesn't grow on my face, it instantly pops onto my face because I have done it so many times. The people of Oz are screaming and cheering, banner's littering the air, "No One Mourns the Wicked!" and "Thank God for Goodness!" flying in the wind, mocking me even more. They quiet down quickly and I clear my throat, willing my words to come out, "Fellow Ozians, we are here yet again to celebrate the death of the Wicked Witch of the West which occurred four years ago this day…." I use the same words I always do, my entire demeanor set on autopilot, carrying through the speech emotionless. I hide the ache and hide the hole that has been ripped into my heart. I come to the end of my speech. It is finally finished… at least for this year. It's all a vicious cycle I am stuck in, something that I can't control, something I have been pulled into. This is my fate, this is my life.

God, if only I could have saved her...


End file.
